


Vengeance

by Artrix



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon), 悪魔城ドラキュラ | Castlevania Series
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-07-18
Packaged: 2018-12-03 21:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11541165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artrix/pseuds/Artrix
Summary: In the wake of Lisa’s death, Dracula expected confrontation with his son. He has only done what is necessary.





	Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the request: “I'm really curious how Dracula responded to his own rage and his own willingness to hurt his only son so badly that Alucard had to flee from him and hide away in fear of Dracula's retaliation. Maybe just a story following the moments after the fight? Realizing what he's done?”

Adrian was so like his mother.

He had the traits of a vampire—the teeth, the need for blood, regenerative abilities, strength and speed unparalleled in a human…

But he was so like _her_.

A curious creature, far more gentle than he should have been. Dracula had shed all traces of his humanity, but Lisa had come into his life and taught him all the things he had forced himself to forget. She liked to call him Vlad, and for a time, he called himself that, too.

But, not anymore.

He would have raised Adrian to be a monster, a reflection of himself, from the beginning.

Not necessarily because he _wanted_ another demon lurking in his castle, but because it was all he knew.

Because it would have kept him safe.

Adrian, like his mother, tended to stick his nose where it didn’t belong and, more than that, he tended to invest emotions that were best left buried.

He had been only four the first time a hunter attacked Dracula. It had been a foolish, poorly planned assault; Dracula hadn’t had the protection of his castle—not that he’d needed it—but the castle was usually enough of a deterrent that he was left in peace.

No, this hunter had come to his _home_. The one he shared with Lisa and Adrian, on the outskirts of town. Away from most others, where they could live their happy life in privacy.

This hunter had broken into their house and charged at the first thing moved—Lisa.

He had pushed through the door and barreled his way past her with enough force to knock her off her feet; she hit her head and was momentarily stunned. With her out of the way, he had moved to the next target to stand between him and Dracula: Adrian. He did not care if it was man or child; Adrian was in his way, so he shoved him too. Though he was smaller, he was more durable than his mother already. 

Dracula’s talons were bared and he was already aiming towards the male’s neck when Adrian screamed for him to stop. _Begged_ him not to hurt the man.

Fast, with the energy and speed only a child could possess, his son lurched towards his father and clung to his leg desperately. He plead for the man’s life.

This man who would hurt his mother, hurt his father, hurt _him_.

Adrian had always wanted to see the good in people; his mother had taught him that lesson early on. Sometimes, when she took him into town, they would call her names. Soon, they called him names, too.

But he didn’t hold it against them. He blamed himself for it, and forgave them.

A _child_ , with such compassion.

It was a weakness Dracula should never have allowed in any spawn of his.

He killed the hunter with no hesitation. He ignored Adrian’s pleas and effortlessly split the man’s throat before viciously sinking his teeth into his flesh.

He thought it was Lisa that screamed, but he realized much later it was Adrian, who had fled from his father’s side to hide behind his mother. Adrian did not speak to him for three days, though even that seemed to cause the boy distress. By the fourth, he was crawling into his lap again, eager for affection and forgiveness.

Because, Adrian had too much love in his heart, for all things.

When Lisa died, Dracula could not even begin to comprehend what love was. Two decades of her carefully cultivating the emotion in him was worth nothing if she wasn’t there. Her death uprooted everything, and he was left with only barren holes that quickly filled with rage and despair.

He announced his intention to those responsible; he _warned_ Targoviste. Instead of burning the town to the ground then and there, he had given them only a taste of hellfire that night. It was the only kindness he could manage—not that they deserved it.

Truthfully, Dracula expected Adrian’s confrontation. His son that they named Alucard, as if they were so alike that he deserved the moniker. They thought themselves clever, but they were fools. 

If they were clever, they never would have taken his wife from him.

Dracula was blinded by grief and a darkness he had not felt since well before Lisa had come into his life. When he made his promise to the people of Targoviste, all he could think of was how they had torn Lisa from him. He did not think of consoling his son.

He knew already knew that they would mourn in separate ways.

Adrian would forgive.

Dracula would destroy.

It had taken Adrian less than an hour to find his way to his father after he ha made his appearance in that damned town.

Naturally, Adrian had opposed the violence. Only, with more backbone than he’d ever had before.

When Adrian entered, he had been prepared to fight. He had come, _armed_.

A mistake, on his part. Adrian was cursed with compassion and Dracula was cursed without it.

At least, for the most part.

He knew his son would come, and while he could not draw his mind from the agony of having his heart pulled from his chest, he knew what had to be done.

Adrian was either with him, or against him, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d spilled enough blood that he’d forgotten how to _feel_ again.

They spoke, angry, heated words. 

But they were just words, and Dracula was tired of speaking.

He could not look at Adrian’s face and not think of Lisa. He could not take solace in the fact that a part of her lived yet; instead, it just reminded him that she should still be here.

They fought.

It was short, and Dracula did not use his full strength. He _hurt_ Adrian, deliberately. Not because he wanted to, but because it was necessary. Adrian could not stand to _see_ anyone hurt, but Dracula needed to.

He could not kill his son, but wound him? He had to. He tore through Adrian’s chest with a force so great that it hurt himself. Adrian’s face contorted into an expression of pain and horror. Dracula hid the pain that shot up his arm and ignored the biting numbness.

Dracula’s heart was so full of grief and loss that he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty.

Adrian had brought this on himself; Dracula had never made it secret that he was a warrior, a soldier—that he was merciless to his enemies.

And yet, to Adrian, he showed mercy.

In his own way.

But then, Adrian was not his enemy; he was his son.

Adrian had never experienced pain such as that before; darkness flashed before his eyes even as the white hot, searing pain shot from his chest. He lost control of his limbs and fell to his knees, staring in horror at the blood that dribbled from the wound his father delivered.

There were no words spoken between them; the gears in Adrian’s head were turning and he seemed to realize how greatly outmatched he was. He seemed to register that this had been a fool’s task. Dracula raised his hand as if to strike again, and in a desperate rush of self preservation, Adrian’s form flickered.

A vampiric ability; his body disappeared into a black shadow, too fast for even Dracula to keep up with. The smell of blood was heavy in the air and Dracula glanced at the puddle on the ground. A trail of red specks flecked the ground; Adrian had bled on his way out.

He would keep bleeding, unless he took the time to hide, and recover.

Dracula glanced at the red on his nails. 

He had not wanted to spill his own son’s blood, but it had been a faint dream, a barely formed hope, that Adrian would rise up against the humans. To make them hurt, as he hurt.

Humans lived such short lives. Lisa would have outlived them all with just her science and passion for life. At one point in time, Dracula had even considered turning her into a vampire, but she had yet to take the offer seriously. 

The humans of Wallachia could have a year to reflect, to worry. To leave. To repent.

But he would spend an eternity with her death heavy in his heart.

Death was too easy for them, but he could not stand to let them walk this earth while she did not. 

_Her_ death had not been easy, she had _burned_. Slowly, painfully, in front of a crowd of people—any of which who could have defended her. And yet, they did not.

Adrian, even, had smelled of smoke. Had he been there? Had he let his mother burn?

Could he have stopped this?

Dracula grit his teeth; hatred flowed too freely in him.

Adrian needed to be gone if he wanted to survive his father’s wrath. He would need to sleep, for a year, or two or three. He could recover, in peace and quiet, while Dracula destroyed this land and all the evils within it.

He would spare Adrian the thought of blood and pain and suffering and death. His son could sleep, and when he awoke, the world would be new. It would be better. His heart would have healed and the pain of losing his mother would not be so fresh.

And then, perhaps, Adrian would understand.

Or, maybe when he was older. When he had lived the life of an immortal and knew the pang of emptiness that came with age and loss. When he knew how important it was to cling to the things you loved, because so little in this world brought him joy. 

Lisa had been his everything, and now she was gone.

And now, Adrian too, was gone.

Temporarily, at least.

A necessity for Dracula’s plans.

If Adrian had stayed, that soft, gentle rationality would have worn away at Dracula’s resolve. By the end of the year, that stupid boy and his stupid compassion might have tugged at his heartstrings enough to stall his attack, if not outright stop it altogether.

Lisa deserved vengeance. A payment of blood would not bring her back, but Dracula _hurt_ , in the way that _men_ did.

He would not suffer alone.

He would purge this world of all that would harm his Lisa—his perfect, beautiful Lisa. So ahead of her time. Too good for this world, and all worlds, probably.

But this attack was not just for her.

Lisa’s blood flowed in Adrian’s veins, and what could hurt her could hurt him.

Adrian might never understand, but Dracula did.

He would not lose what part of her he had left.

Adrian would sleep, safe. Recovering from a wound that was never meant to kill. He would be hidden from the world of men and monsters.

Adrian, who would care for and trust the people that murdered his mother—and would murder him, all the same, would stay out of the picture while Dracula did to them what he’d done to the hunter that tried to hurt his family.

And Adrian could sulk, and throw a tantrum and ignore him, but in the end, Adrian would forgive him.

In the end, Adrian would live.

**Author's Note:**

> I thought it would make most sense for Dracula to consider Alucard's name to be Adrian, since that was his birth name! 
> 
> Thank you for reading! If you have any requests, please check out my profile for information!


End file.
